


Train

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, OOC and IDC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Ben wants an eight pack. A personal trainer at his local gym thinks he knows how to make that happen.





	Train

“I am _so_ sorry, sir, but it is company policy.”  
Ben glared at the disinterested blonde working the reception desk. “It’s stupid. I’ve been to other gyms. I know how all these machines work. I don’t need an induction session.”  
“I’m afraid your first session must be supervised. Here at _First Order Fitness_ we stick by the rules… Should I book you in?” Cool eyes glanced at Ben. “Or would you prefer to train somewhere else?”  
Ben huffed. He turned away from the desk for a couple of seconds then turned back again. “Look, I just wanted to show up and train. Now. I don’t want to have to make and keep an appointment.”  
Something flashed up on her tablet. “Oh, wait.” A smile and a nod. “You can. One of our personal trainers has a slot free in…” she tapped at her device. “Ten minutes? You could look around and get changed. He’ll be right with you.” She handed him a plastic card and pointed, already shifting her attention to the next client. “Changing rooms are over there. Oh hi, Unamo! Ready to be worked hard? I’m going to make you sweat, babe.”

The changing rooms were plain and functional with grey metal half-height lockers, black floor tiles and just enough red paint to ease the gloom. Ben changed into workout clothes and lobbed his stuff into a free locker, clanging the door and scanning the code on the card to lock it. He wandered around the free weights and the machines for a few minutes, deciding what to do first, but a voice distracted him.  
“Mr Solo?”  
Ben turned and saw a slender man with a professional smile, hair fire-red under the halogen glare from the lights set into the high ceiling. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Are _you_ my personal trainer? Only I want to bulk up and you don’t look like you—“  
“I assure you, Mr Solo,” the man said with heard-it-before boredom in his voice. “I know exactly what you need. I bet you’ve reached a plateau training on your own. Hmm, let me see.” The redhead stepped backwards and looked Ben up and down. “You’re muscular. Definitely a six-pack lurking under that vest, but you want an eight-pack. You ju-u-ust can’t get that last pair of abdominals to show.” Ben scowled. He hated that the irritating man guessed right. “My name is Armitage. Can I call you Ben?”  
“Huh?” Ben shrugged at the man. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”  
“Well, Ben. You may find my methods unusual but I assure you my programme is effective. We will begin over here.”

Ben frowned as Armitage pointed to the seating area. “I came for a workout, not coffee and chat.”  
“I know,” Armitage explained with the practised patience of someone used to dealing with petulance. “If you want that eight-pack, you need to tell me what your fitness regime has been up to now. First—”  
“This is bullshit! I demand to speak with the manager.”  
Armitage smiled. “Yes, I expect you do.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”  
Ben leaned forward. “Get me the manager!”  
Armitage pointed to his embroidered name badge. There, in red writing on a dark grey background: _Armitage Hux, General Manager._ He sighed. “Careful, Ben, that your impatience not interfere with—“  
“Fine. Shut up with the motivational talk and make me a programme that will get me an eight-pack.”

Armitage asked many, many questions. Ben thought he had never told anyone as much about himself, at least not all in one go, whilst finding out so little in return. After fifteen minutes, Armitage knew what Ben ate and when, how much he slept, what fitness routine he followed, had captured a _before_ photograph of his abs and knew that he was single. He led Ben over to the treadmills.  
“Okay. Ten minutes cardio then you’re on abs work. You already do crunches at home so here you will do the exercises you need specialist equipment and supervision for. Hop on!”  
Ben could have growled at Armitage’s condescending manner, but he went along with his recommendations. An hour later, Ben thought he might never bend or twist at the waist again. He groaned in the shower, glad that although the communal tiled wet area lacked privacy, it gave him space to stretch. Perhaps, he thought, he should be more open minded about his training.

It was two painful days before Ben could face the gym again. It was late. He scanned his card to sign in and headed for the changing room. When he emerged, he saw with puzzlement that Armitage was waiting.  
“Are you ready?” Armitage looked him up and down again and Ben thought he saw a slight upturn of his lips.  
“I didn’t book another personal training session,” said Ben with a frown. “I was just going to do the same session again.”  
“And there is your mistake, Ben!” Armitage smiled in a way that managed to be both smug and professional all at once. “You need variety. Today you will do a different workout.”  
“Still abs, though?” asked Ben, sounding unsure. Armitage shook his head.  
“Only partly. Let’s get you started on a cardio warm-up. Follow me!”  
“Partly?” echoed Ben as he followed Armitage’s spare frame with its average shoulders and narrow hips, pale slender arms emerging from shirt sleeves that were tight on all the other personal trainers but fell loose from the shoulder and only enhanced Armitage’s slight build. Ben stepped onto the elliptical trainer and pumped the handles. “But I want to—“  
“Impatience will get you nowhere, Ben. Are you questioning my methods?”  
“I found out that one of your staff left and went to _Resistance Machines_ because he questioned your methods,” retorted Ben.  
Armitage visibly stiffened, pink spread from his collar up to his cheekbones and Ben wondered if he might shout, but his colour only deepened and his fists clenched. When he spoke, he was the very image of control.  
“We don’t talk about that traitor here. I promise we will drive them and their outdated methods out of business soon. Put more effort into your cardio and cut the chat.”  
Ben watched the display between the handles change as Armitage set a tougher programme, and smirked.

Cardio warm-up and stretches over, Armitage walked Ben to a vacant decline bench. He set the gradient and patted the padded surface. Ben positioned himself.  
“I thought you said I could just do crunches at home?”  
“Mmhmm, you can. Do three reps of ten. Slowly. Count of four up and four down. I’ll be watching to make sure you don’t cheat.” Armitage’s voice faded as he walked a short distance away but his slow count remained audible. After the first ten, Ben laughed. “This is too easy. Can you set— OOF!”  
“I know. That was just to make sure your technique was correct. Poor technique causes injury. Now do the same thing whilst hugging this weight to your chest. That should make it harder.”

Armitage watched closely and nitpicked over technique. Ben had met other personal trainers who cheered and shouted condescendingly scripted encouragement. Thankfully Armitage was not of this type. When it looked as if Ben was flagging, he simply sighed and asked him if he needed to stop, was it too difficult, suggested a six-pack was good enough for an ordinary person like Ben. This enraged Ben and he channeled his ire into physical effort, all the while imagining slapping the smirk right off Armitage’s smug face. Half an hour of leg raises and bench presses and bicep curls and tricep dips later, Ben thought he might have reached his limit of both endurance and patience. Sweat nipped at his eyes, dripped from his chin, from his hair, and spattered the black neoprene of the floor mat. The gym was quiet apart from his pained sounds of effort and Armitage laughed.  
“Normally we have a strict _No Grunting_ policy but since you are the last client I won’t issue you with a penalty.”  
“I’m last? Where did everyone else go?” Ben frowned at the deserted gym where one uniformed man wiped down the last stationary bike in the ordered ranks of machines after a puff of disinfectant spray then nodded acknowledgement of Armitage’s wave.  
“We closed twenty-five minutes ago but I thought you would prefer to complete your workout. Dopheld’s shift finishes in five minutes and I don’t want to have to pay him overtime to clean up after you, so you’re done for tonight.”

“Oh!” Ben looked at Armitage in surprise. He cooled down and stretched with assistance from the ever-attentive general manager, vaguely aware of a cheerful _goodnight_ and the sound of the main door clicking, then walked slowly over to the changing rooms. Armitage locked up quickly, closed the shutters and followed him through the swing door. When Ben turned, he explained. “I usually shower before I leave and we don’t have the luxury of separate staff facilities. I’ll wait until you’re finished if you prefer.”  
“Uh?” Ben felt his face warm up and he bit his lip. It would be churlish to make the man wait even longer before going home. “No, that’s okay.”

Armitage turned to open the first locker with a key while Ben scanned his card and his locker popped open. Ben wondered if Armitage would mind if he dropped normal changing room protocol and simply stripped off. He decided to ask, but Armitage answered the question by example, sauntering towards the shower room with a bottle in his hand and his towel slung over his shoulder. Ben sneered, thinking _Acts like he owns the place,_ then realised he probably did. He wandered naked into the wetroom, stared for a few seconds, then laughed. Armitage had angled three showerheads around the far corner to blast him simultaneously and stood with an expression of pure bliss: eyes closed, head back, mouth open. He heard Ben’s laugh and smiled across the tiles.  
“Come here, try it.”

Ben walked over. Armitage stepped out of the jets and guided Ben in with a hand on his waist. Ben couldn’t help laughing a little at the sensation. Armitage traced a finger so lightly across Ben’s abdominal muscle that Ben didn’t notice right away. He caught Armitage’s errant hand and held it flat against his midriff. “Any improvement?”  
Armitage slipped his hand away and shook his head. “Nothing visible yet. It’s too early. Give it another three weeks and it might be worth comparing with your _before_ photo.” He picked up his shower gel and used it to lather his hair, reclaiming one of the shower jets.  
Ben frowned. He thought he’d seen something in Armitage’s expression when he’d trapped his hand, but the response was cool, dismissive. He watched Armitage rinse off, eyes closed again and a slight smile pushing at his lips. He took advantage of the moments Armitage had his eyes closed to look at the man properly. He was slender, but not from lack of training. His muscles were not swollen and showy like his own, but toned and tight. Ben looked away when Armitage caught him looking.

A clunk signalled the water shutting off. Armitage gave Ben a tired smile.  
“I know what you’re thinking. How can a personal trainer look like me.” Ben frowned and shook his head. Armitage angled his head a little. “Oh? What were you thinking while you stared at me, then? You like skinny blokes or something?”  
Ben was already red from the hot shower. “It’s not that either. I was wondering what you  _do,_ you know? You look toned but kind of… I dunno.”  
“Climbing,” replied Armitage. “I go bouldering when I can. You have to be strong but supple and it’s great for your back muscles. Look.” Armitage turned his back and did something with his arms. The deep vee of his trapezius muscle showed itself clearly and his deltoids, although modest in bulk, displayed clear structure. “Perhaps I should take you one day. See how your undirected power matches against my refined strength.”

Ben had never heard of bouldering and had no interest in mountaineering, but going climbing with Armitage seemed like the best idea in the galaxy. He smiled and tore his eyes up from Armitage’s gluteals to his face, looking back at him with a question in his eyes. Ben grinned.  
“I think that might be fun.”


End file.
